


A lover, and Everything that is Wrong in the World

by ThePinkMug



Category: Original Work
Genre: A tribute to a friend, Gen, God i love this couple so much, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I like them more than the original creator, M/M, They're not mine but i like them so much, fanfiction of original characters, send help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePinkMug/pseuds/ThePinkMug
Summary: Chihiro was nearly killed in his studio; two deep knife stabs through his abdomen. His lover, Daichi, was set to find and stop the assailant himself.





	1. 01.

**Author's Note:**

> It's a male/male couple, so please be advised.  
> The characters are not mine, but as I have stated above, I love them so much I decided to write a story about them. The original creators know about it, don't worry.

Chihiro dumped a lump of dried flower tea into his cup, then watched it bloom as he drowned it in boiling water. He thought it was ironic that the dried flower still looked beautiful blooming after its death. Maybe he, too, would still look beautiful beyond his death. Or, maybe precisely because he had died once that he was able to bloom now.

The water overflowed and splattered to his feet. He jumped back and cursed softly. The burning sting and he nearly poured the boiling water all over the kitchen counter too, if he didn’t quickly tilt and pull the teapot away. The pink-haired man sighed. Good thing he didn’t drop and break another teapot. He had broken one just yesterday. It wouldn’t be funny if he broke anything again today. 

“Chihiro.”

“Yeah?” The pink-haired man tried to sound as bright as possible. He snatched a rag from the dish-washing basin and began wiping the water away.

“You have been spacing out lately. Is something the matter?” Sitting on the dining chair behind him was Daichi, a man in his thirties. He was way bigger than Chihiro; one can see his shoulder, chest, and arm rippling from beneath his shirt, a stark contrast to the pink-haired man lean arms and small waist. His dark hair was parted neatly to one side, and he sported a black framed glasses.

“Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry.” Chihiro dried the rag and hung it over the basin. He brought his own teacup to the table and pulled a chair next to Daichi. He avoided the man’s eyes, yet still smiling as he answered, “just a little tired I suppose.”

Daichi stared at him for a while. It’s true that people tend to space out when they’re tired, but Chihiro's tired was different. Chihiro's tired was him climbing up to the bed and fell asleep a second later, not spacing out and restlessly biting his nail. His ‘tired’ is asking for an early night, not avoiding his question and getting lost inside his own head.

“Fine if you say so,” Daichi said after a while. “But I’m not taking that ‘tired’ excuse. You can’t pull such a blatant lie on me.”

The pink-haired man chuckled. “You’re right,” he said. “But really, don’t worry. It’s just a few annoying clients as usual. I’ll get them done in no time.” He stirred his tea and took a few gulps. His mind had started to wander again, but Daichi’s question and his own answer had somehow further stirred his stomach. 

They stayed quiet for a while. Chihiro sighed and watched his tea spinning so slowly inside his cup. Daichi was throwing a worried and pissed glance at him, he knew. But he just couldn’t bring himself to tell him what had been bothering him. He knew he said a few annoying clients and a few annoying clients were something expected in a service industry like his tattoo studio. Daichi would have known that much. They have been living together for about ten years now. He would have seen right through him.

It’s just that he didn’t really want to drag the much-beloved man into this matter. He knew Daichi. He knew what he would do. He just didn’t want him to get involved and get into trouble for something he thought he must solve on his own.

“Okay, if you say so,” Daichi said. “just let me know if you need me to punch some guts.”

Chihiro chuckled and gave him a simple ‘okay’. He rose and washed his cup. Now he would have to go to his studio to work. Today, the thought of going there alone and meeting people on his own scared him to the bones. He wanted Daichi around, but the man still needed his rest so he could run the bar later. 

“Chi-chan, let’s eat dinner out before the bar opens,” Chihiro said. He dried his hand and went to gave the man a light massage on his shoulder. He hugged him afterward, saying, “maybe something nice like that steak place. With some wine.”

“‘Kay.” the agreement came short and quick. 

“I’ll call you when I’m done.” Chihiro let go and gave the man a light pat on the back, “watch your phone.”

Daichi watched the pink haired man leaving with a frown. That was not unusual, but it wasn’t the usual either. Seeing him like this made him feel like they’re losing each other, for a reason he cannot yet pinpoint.


	2. Chapter 2

The clock hit 2 p.m., and for a second, the sun hid behind a passing cloud. Daichi was sorting through a new menu he had just gotten. A lit cigarette sat between his lips. Next to him was a pile of sorted bills and an ashtray made of white porcelain.

“That sounds good alright.” He gave the menu a mark and took a drag of his cigarette.

He tapped the ashes away. He was about to put it back in his mouth when his phone vibrated and rang. A call from Chihiro. 

_ There’s no way he’s finishing at 2.  _ Daichi thought as he picked up the phone. As usual, he merely gave a short ‘hm’ instead of a proper hello.

What he heard on the other side of the line was a laboring breath. Chihiro’s laboring breath, and his plea for help. He straightened his back. Something dropped in his stomach. His grip on the phone tightened. It’s better not be a joke-- no, it sounded too real and too cruel to be a joke.

“Daichi-- help.”

“Chihiro, what--”

“Help, I’m-- I’m bleeding.”

_ What. _

“Fuck— Are you in the studio?” 

“Yes—”

“I'm coming. You stay there.” The man immediately put out his cigarette and dropped his pen. He yanked his jacket and rushed out.

“Call— ambulance,” Chihiro writhed. “It hurts, Chi-chan. It hurts so—much.”

“What happened—fuck, I'm coming. Stay afloat, okay? I'll call— Oi, Chihiro! Fuck—” Daichi looked at his phone. The call was still connected but Chihiro had stopped talking. Daichi hit the emergency number. His hand was shaking and sweating so much. His voice was trembling as he spoke into the phone. He pushed people away from his way, didn't even bothered to apologize when he grazed past someone. He tried calling Chihiro again, but nobody picked the call up.

The studio door was ajar by the time he arrived. He barged in and saw a trail of blood on the floor. At the end of it, the pink-haired man lied unconscious. Blood covered half his body. Next to him, a knife lied, its blade still leaked blood.

“Chihiro!” He swore, he had never been this scared. Not when his father hit him, not when his younger brother was locked in the bathroom. He rushed and kneeled next to the man. Chihiro was still breathing, thank God, but he was bleeding severely. Daichi took off his clothes and tried to press on the wound, hoping it would at least stop the blood. His sight turned blurry. He was shaking. He was cursing and begging whichever God was there to not take Chihiro away.

The ambulance came a few minutes after--its blaring siren gave him a strange comforting hope. Paramedics came pouring into the room, the police soon after. They shouted orders and took over his place. Crowds gathered. Daichi stood frozen, watching. He was still holding his blood covered shirt.

They rushed him to the hospital. They allowed him to get into the ambulance and hold Chihiro’s hand on the way. Both their fingers were paling, Daichi from fear, and Chihiro from losing so much blood. They rushed him to the operation room. He was told to wait outside. 

The next few hours must be how hell felt like. Daichi sat unmoving on the hospital’s hard plastic chair. He reeked blood-- he was still wearing his sweat and blood-drenched shirt, but he didn’t care. His hand clasped tight, and he would jerk his head up every time he thought someone went out from the operation room. The light above the door flickered after every minute as if sympathizing with him. 

_ Whoever did this to him _ , he thought,  _ I will never forgive them. _

Minutes turned to hours, and hours felt like forever. The signage light was finally turned off, and the door creaked open. Daichi jumped to his feet. A woman clothed in operation gown came out.

“Are you his family?” the woman asked. Her eyes flickered to the blood on Daichi’s shirt. She smiled.

The dark haired man nodded. 

“He’ll be fine,” she said again. “We found a bit of damage in the internal organ, but he’s alright now.”

Daichi felt all strength left his legs. He staggered and slumped to the hard, plastic seat. It was as if the earth he had been carrying on his shoulder was lifted.

“Thank you.” The man muttered. He found himself started sobbing, both out of pain and out of relief. He felt a hand patting on his shoulder.

“Take some rest yourself,” the doctor said. “He’ll wake up soon. We’ll let you know once he’s in the ICU.”


	3. Chapter 3

Daichi told the part-timer working in the bar that the place will close for the next three days. He packed his clothes and locked their place. As he crossed the road, he saw a young man watching him passing by, but he let it be. He thought it was merely incidental. 

The moment Daichi rushed into the room, Chihiro greeted with a weak smile and extended his hand. He quietly called his name. His hand was connected to an IV drip. Two monitors stood next to his bed, their screen beeping slowly. An oxygen mask covered half his face—its cover whitened out as he breathed. 

Daichi caught the extended hands and wrapped it in both his hand. He kissed them tenderly. Their fingers intertwined—Chihiro’s hand felt so weak and fragile in his hand, but thank God they were warm. They were warm and real. 

The pink-haired man pulled away and reached to stroke his cheek. He smiled, but even his smile was weary. The cheerful and annoying Chihiro was gone. Now the same man couldn’t even find the strength to utter a single word and heavens be damned if that did not break Daichi. 

“I’m sorry.” The dark-haired man whispered as their hands found their way back into each other's clutch. He kissed the back of it. The pink-haired man shook his head and started stroking his hand with his thumb. Daichi rose and reached out, and with trembling fingers, he touched him on the cheek. He cupped his jaw. He leaned in to rest his forehead on him. He could feel Chihiro's pulse beating against his fingers and oh, how more reassuring every beat could be! 

As they rested against each other, Chihiro closed his eyes and sighed. Only at this time, they both seemed to realize that they were alone, that they have only each other, that they were just nobody. They were runaways among forced social obligations, they were everything the society deemed wrong, yet they found comfort in each other even before an eyeing death. 

Daichi tucked the pink-haired man in as he fell asleep. He kept on holding Chihiro's hand throughout the night. He popped in a few nicotine candies in lieu of a cigarette break. His toilet break was no more than a few minutes long. It was as if he feared to lose Chihiro the moment he took his eyes away from his sleeping figure. When the clock struck midnight, he slept sitting on the bedside. His head and shoulder slumping on the mattress for a little comfort. 

Just a little bit before dawn, Chihiro woke him up with a slight shake on his shoulder and a pat on his head. The pink-haired man told him that his wound is hurting and he needed to call the nurse. He pointed on the sofa and quietly told Daichi to sleep there.

The nurses came less than a minute after he called for them. She asked Chihiro if he’s in pain, then quickly drawn the curtain to prepare for a re-dressing. Daichi was not allowed in the room while Chihiro was taken care of. 

However, it took only a while and when he came back, a pillow and a blanket had been prepared for him on the sofa, perhaps at Chihiro's request. Such a simple sight and it sent him to a myriad of spiraling emotion. He's touched, he's mad, he's sad, but most of all, he felt guilty. Chihiro had all the right to be selfish right now, but he still had the time to think about him. 

Yet, all he could do was watching the said person breathing weakly through the oxygen mask. 

He said nothing, though. He simply asked if it still hurt and if there was anything else he could do. When Chihiro shook his head, Daichi gave him a very awkward forehead kiss and a brief hug.

He slept on the sofa but kept on waking up every few hours or so to check on Chihiro. At six in the morning, he stopped trying to sleep and simply kept an eye on him.

Daichi saw the knife used to stab him. The authorities have been keeping it for evidence and will soon contact both Daichi and Chihiro for questioning. Anyway, the knife seemed to be an ordinary kitchen knife, and it was long. When he saw it, blood was still trickling down the blade. O ne could only imagine both the pain and horror of getting stabbed with such atrocity. He shuddered at the thought.

Chihiro woke up about an hour later. He looked around and upon seeing Daichi, greeted him with a smile and good morning. It seemed like he had gained a little bit of energy after sleeping for so long. Upon realizing that he was awake, Daichi quickly returned to his bedside. As soon as he sat down, Chihiro had, again, reached out to stroke his cheekbone.

“Sorry for the shock,” he said. His voice cracked. “I’m okay now. Don’t worry.”

“Stop telling me to not worry when you’re like this.” Daichi took Chihiro’s hand away and squeezed his hand. Their fingers intertwined. “No thanks for the shock.”

“Worrywart.” Chihiro chuckled, then winced in pain. Daichi was ready to call the nurse, but Chihiro simply tugged his hand to make him sit back down. “it’s alright,” he said. “I'm just not supposed to laugh or the stitch will reopen.”

Daichi sighed and sat down. He fixed the blanket using one hand—his other hand was still locked into Chihiro's hand—to make sure the man was lying warm and comfortable. 

“Did you sleep well?” Chihiro asked, then went on, “I felt like I’ve slept for days,”

“Good for you,” the man replied. “Don’t worry about me--”

“You  _ are _ worrying though.”

Daichi simply looked away, sulking. Chihiro coughed a chuckled and tugged his hand to bring his attention back to him. 

The door to the ICU was opened and a nurse came in with a card . She saw them holding hands and raised her brows. Daichi was ready to hurl defending remarks if she ever made a comment about two men holding hands. Who cares if they were not the most normal people out there? Who on earth, cared more for normalcy than love in the face of death?

But she simply reminded Daichi to keep his hand clean and sanitized at all times if he wants to hold Chihiro. They’re trying to prevent infection, she said. 

“Also a bouquet of flowers was delivered just now, but since we can’t bring them in, I’d just let you know.” the nurse handed the card to Daichi. The man read it, frowning. Not a name he’s familiar with. She said again, “the doctor will come to check up on you soon.”

The nurse bowed down and leave. As soon as the door clicked close, Chihiro turned his head to Daichi and asked, “Who sent it?”

“Someone I don’t know,” Daichi opened the greeting card “He called himself Sasaki Kojiro, apparently.”

“Chi-chan, throw it away.”

Daichi raised his brows. A shadow had descended upon Chihiro’s otherwise warm and gentle eyes. His voice trembled and he was glaring at him. Daichi could see traces of anger and fear behind the oxygen mask.

The man was about to say something when the door to their room was knocked and opened. The same woman doctor he met outside the operating room came in along with a nurse pushing a tray heavy with food. She chimed in a cheerful good morning and announced that it’s time for a check up. Chihiro shot the same glaring look at Daichi and repeated his order. Daichi agreed. He then squeezed Chihiro’s fingers once for assurance before leaving the room.

“We’ll let you know when we’re done,” the doctor said as she took over Daichi’s place on Chihiro’s bedside. 

“Doctor, I--”

“Yes?”

“I want to know what’s happening.”

“Sure, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.” Daichi bowed and left the room. He could still hear the doctor talking from behind the door. She sounded so jovial, and when a doctor talked like that, surely there was nothing he should worry about.

The man went for a brief walk on the hospital terrace. He read the name and the greeting card on the bouquet. Nothing seemed to click--nothing felt out of place. The greeting card was store bought. The sender had written his name and a ‘get well soon, we miss you’ with a blue ballpoint pen.

_ Get well soon, we miss you _ .

Daichi carefully slipped the greeting card into his pocket and went on lighting a cigarette. The nicotine cleared his head a little. Everything felt too strange for him. There’s definitely something Chihiro had been keeping away from him. Something that may have led to someone attempted to kill him. But why--? They were just two runaways trying to live a quiet life in the suburb. He was just a bartender, Chihiro was just a tattoo artist. Neither one of them possessed enough influential power or money enough to attract anyone's attention.

Unless it had something to do with his family background. Nanashima Chihiro had never told him about his family, not even a word about his mother. He only knew that they used to be rich, but he hadn't the slightest idea on what kind of rich Chihiro meant. Chihiro sometimes joked about him being a prince, too. There’s no way he’s actually the royal family, right? 

Daichi heard just rumors; a rumor he speculated as true as he looked at Chihiro’s tattoos. He might have come from an influential mafia family.

The man returned to the relatives’ room holding a small bento box and a pack of chocolate milk. The stationed nurse told him that the doctor would finish anytime soon, but if Chihiro wanted it, the nurse might give him a simple sponge bath.

Daichi had just taken a sip of his milk when the nurse called him. The doctor wanted to have a word, he said. The man immediately packed his stuff and rushed to meet her.

“I’m doctor Miwa, I will be responsible for Nanashima-san until he’s discharged,” the doctor bowed as Daichi came to see her.

Daichi returned the bow but said nothing else.

“He weakened a little, but stabilizing,” the doctor said, “The stabs were pretty deep. We found a slight rupture on his liver and kidney. They take time to heal, but they will heal on its own. He will need a further thorough check for complication but for now, I haven’t seen anything concerning.”

“I see.”

“If all is good we can have him discharged from ICU this evening, then we’ll see how he does for a week. Afterward, it’s just home treatment.”

Daichi nodded again. At least he won’t lose Chihiro. The scene yesterday felt like a dream; the ambulance’s blaring siren, the blood on the floor, Chihiro’s fading voice on the phone, all felt like a dream. 

“Well then, I’ll come again later in the evening. Take care.”

“Thank you.” the man bowed ninety-degree deep. “For saving his life.”

“Thank yourself, young man. He won’t be here if you didn’t save him. I simply do my job, that’s all.”

Daichi came back to a smiling Chihiro. Again, as soon as they were close, their hands found their way into each other. 

“Tell me who did this,” Daichi said after a while. “I'll make them pay. Is it the one who send the flowers?”

Chihiro shook his head slowly. 

“Then?”

“It’s fine. Just let them be.”

“They nearly killed you!”

“I know.” The pink haired man gently stroke Daichi's hand with his thumb. He could feel Daichi's grip tightening around his fingers. Ah, sometimes he forgot this man, huge and rude as he was, possessed a very soft heart. “I know you're mad. But just for this one, just let them be and stay with me, okay?”

Daichi stayed quiet.

“I don't want this to go public,” Chihiro said again. He squeezed the man's hand twice and smiled. “If you do something, it may go public. I don't want this to go public. Let's just live quietly like we always do.”

Daichi sighed and gave Chihiro a quiet 'okay'. If that's what he wanted, then so be it. He hadn't had the heart to go against the pink-haired man wishes—hell, like he had ever the heart to go against any of Chihiro's wishes. 

“I'm kinda sleepy,” Chihiro muttered. He blinked slowly and sighed. “Talk to me anyway. It's always nice to talk to you like this.”

“You know I'm never good at talking.” Daichi scoffed, then softened, “If you're sleepy then just stop talking and go to sleep.”

“You’ll be lonely if I am quiet.”

“I will be very much at peace if you'd just be quiet and go to sleep.”

Chihiro pursed his lips to hold back laughter. “Sounds like I'm better off dead.”

Daichi shot a murderous glare at the morbid remark. Chihiro laughed, then winced a short ‘ouch’ as his laughter accidentally tugged the muscle in his stomach. Daichi jolted from his seat. Chihiro caught his arms and reassured him, saying that he's more durable than the dark haired man probably thought. 

Daichi sighed and squeezed the smaller, pale hands as he sat back down. The short, momentary remark tugged on his chest and his conscience. He wished pain could be shared. How unfair it is that pain is private suffering. How unfair it is that pain is something that could not be shared, even among lovers.

“I’m serious Chihiro. Go to sleep, you're tired.” the dark-haired man reached out and brushed strands of blond-pink hair off his partner's face. “I'm not going anywhere anyway.”

Chihiro closed his eyes and sighed at the touch. He was about to say something about lunch, but sleep caught up to him real fast. Before long, his grip had loosened and his breath had started slowing down again.


	4. Chapter 4

It did seem like the pink-haired man possessed more durability than his lean waist suggested. They moved him from the ICU to the regular room in the same evening, just a while before dinner. The nurse taught him how to exercise his legs so they won't lose their power from being unused for so long, then showed Daichi how it should be done so he could help with it when needed. Oxygen tubes replaced oxygen mask, and Chihiro was more than pleased he could finally talk and eat as he pleased. He was still feeling all heavy and weak, he said, but at least he can talk and maybe watch the TV. 

Chihiro ate his hospital dinner with his eyes glued to the TV. He complained about how stupid was the characters, and one of them should have flirted with the other guy instead of the main character. Daichi sat next to him eating his own bento, eyes glued to a book he placed on his lap. Chihiro was busy entertaining himself, but every time Daichi rose from his seat, the pink-haired man would ask where he's going. Truly, if Chihiro didn't still wince and moaned in pain every time he moved, Daichi would have believed he's all healed up.

“Just stop watching if you're complaining that much,” the dark-haired man finally said as he closed his book and his bento box.

“I have nothing else to do— where are you going?”

“Putting this away.” Daichi gestured to his empty-bento box. He wrapped it with the plastic bag he got after shopping, then putting it aside to throw it away later.

“I can't finish my dinner, it's too much.”

“Then just let it be.” Daichi sat on his chair next to him.

“I want something sweet though.”

“I have candies if you want.”

“Not your candies. I want cola. Or ice cream.”

“No.”

Chihiro was about to say something else when the door was knocked and a group of young men and women came in. Chihiro perked up in recognition. They were Chihiro clients. They have heard about the tattooist getting into an accident. So, as soon as they heard Chihiro was moved away from no-visitor ICU to the regular room, they packed flower and fruits, and came to see him in the hospital. 

Daichi stepped aside to give them space. He told Chihiro he'd take out the trashes then go for a smoke—for he's for sure going to ask where he's going for the hundredth time today.

In the end, he went to the convenient store and bought Chihiro a bottled juice. He came back to an arranged bouquet next to the bed and a bored Chihiro. 

The pink-haired man perked up when he came back. nevertheless, he whined, “What took you so long?” 

“This.” Daichi showed him the bag of juice and snacks he bought. He gave Chihiro the chilled juice. Chihiro received it with a childish grin plastered all over his face.

“I want to eat this too.” he gave the pear his guests brought to Daichi. “Peel it for me? I think the nurse brought me a fruit knife as well. There.”

“Okay, okay.” Daichi took the pear and started peeling them as Chihiro wished. This wasn't the first time Chihiro acted like a spoiled brat, to be honest. After ten-plus years of them together, Daichi had learned to simply give in to his tons of requests whenever he's sick. At this point it was just an expected habit he no longer complained about.

“By the way,” Chihiro called as he began eating the fruits Daichi peeled for him, “doctor Miwa told me we are becoming quite a topic among the doctor and the nurses.”

“What--”

Chihiro chuckled, “I think all the staffs in this hospital now know I’m gay,” he said while munching on the pear. “She didn’t say anything about it, she just said we’re quite a topic, but what can be a more interesting topic than two gay tattooed men holding hands in the ICU?”

Daichi sighed. “I hope that doesn’t mean you get less of a treatment.”

“I hope so. It’s their job anyway,” Chihiro scooted aside and told Daichi to sit next to him so he can lean on him. “Damn. Sometimes I’m just so tired being an anomaly.”

“But the doctor seemed to be a decent person,” Chihiro said again, “Oh, and what did you say about me getting in the hospital? Accident?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then let’s settle to that story.” Chihiro nodded to himself. “Though to be honest, I didn’t think anyone would actually come and see me here. The earlier visit was a pleasant surprise.”

Daichi said nothing. He ate his share of pear in silence, listening and letting Chihiro talked as he pleased. 

They went on quietly talking until the clock struck eleven. A nurse came around to make sure everything was fine, that the wound did not hurt and his oxygen intake was fine. Chihiro asked the nurse if he can wash his hair tomorrow. He said it should be fine with supervision. 

The next morning, Daichi told the pink-haired man he’d pack some stuff from home and asked if there was anything he’d like to have.

“My sketchbook? And some pencil. And my phone.”

“You’re not going to work while in the hospital.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a few sketches. Nothing too big.”

Daichi sighed. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Don’t forget your own blanket.”

Just a few minutes after Daichi left, the door to the room was knocked. Chihiro raised his head from the book he borrowed from Daichi and told the guests to come in. It was quite early in a weekday morning, so whoever coming must not be someone working regular hours, he supposed. Who might it be? Getting guests without Daichi around made him nervous now. 

A man in black suit and colorful shirt came in. Chihiro went instantly pale. He gripped on the table next to him, his eyes, widened and shaking, stared at his guests.

“What do you want again?” The question came out trembling from between gritted teeth, “I told you I am NOT coming back. Leave.”

“We are here to see how you’ve been doing.” the man bowed. He strode closer and placed a nicely wrapped set of french pastries on the bedside table.

Chihiro snatched the fruit knife lying around on the table and held it in front of him. “Trying to see how I’ve been doing after stabbing me twice. Classic.”

“How rude, I was trying to fix your distorted way of thinking.”

“Please have a look in the mirror.”

“Come on, you don’t know how sad your brother and your parents are. Why bother living in a slum, working your asses off on days end, co-habiting with an imbecile if you can live comfortably with servants ready at one bark of order?”

“Get out.”

“You don’t tell me to get out like that.”

“Yes I do.”

The man turned on his heels and slapped the knife away from Chihiro’s hand. Chihiro raised his hand to defend himself, but the man pushed him back onto the bed. He pinned Chihiro’s hands down, then climbed the bed to straddle him. Chihiro stared at him defiantly, teeth bared and gritted. 

“Just stop fighting and come back, Chihiro. You’re tainting our family’s name.”

Chihiro kicked him on the abdomen. The man let him go to dodge the kick. He wasn’t yet able to stand upright when Chihiro snatched the vase on his bedside table and threw it, trying to aim at the man’s head. It missed by a few inches and the vase crashed against the wall. 

“Leave or I’ll call the nurse.” The pink haired man snatched the bell and raised it to make sure his guest sees what's in his hand. 

The man fixed his suit and clucked his tongue. In the end, he simply bowed as he heard steps coming closer. “We will meet again.” 

He left. Chihiro lowered his hand and closed his eyes. The lids were trembling as his breath was pacing. He dropped and sat on the bed. Something trickled down his skin. He looked down, and to his horror, his hospital gown had been dyed red. He frantically reached for the bell again. A numbing pain had started to crawl across his skin, clawing on his senses. It grew and started gnawing on his limbs. It pulled him away. He pressed the bell and started curling on the edge of the bed. He could feel nothing but pain now. 

The door was slammed open and a group of huge, rough looking men came in. They were smiling, but their smile was instantly wiped out their face as they saw Chihiro writhing in agony with blood drenching his clothes. One of them dashed out to call the nurse, one other tried to hold Chihiro by his shoulder and legs, and made him lie down. The others merely froze in place as they panic.

Nurses and doctors poured into the room. As they stripped his gown to check on his wounds, the room spun and went dark. Chihiro slipped into oblivion. 


	5. Chapter 5

Daichi came back to a sleeping Chihiro and a room full with huge men donning  leather jackets and metal necklaces. They had been sitting around waiting for him to arrive. Some of them sported tattoos, others the outdated sideburns and pompadour. He recognized them as the few among his bar’s regular patron. They looked intimidating, sure. Most of them had bulges of muscles one could not help but notice, and most of them are at least as tall as him, if not taller. None of them said a single word. The loudest of their conversation was carried in whispers among themselves.

“Oh, you guys.” Daichi said as he closed the door behind him. He dropped the bag on the sofa and noticed Chihiro’s sleeping figure. He thought the pink-haired guy must have been sleeping when they came. it was impossible to fall asleep while talking with so many guests in the room. “D’you want wa--”

“Shh!”

Daichi stepped back, frowning. Two of them had had the audacity to hushed him to be quiet right in front of his face. 

“He’s sleeping!” They gestured towards Chihiro, mouthing the words in panic.

“I know--”

“Then be quiet!”

Daichi sighed. He lazily shrugged his shoulder.

“But boss, we got something to tell you.” one of them, the only one wearing red bandana and leather boots, whispered. He gestured Daichi to follow him outside the room. The rest of the gang nodded to him as if approving his bravery-- or for a reason Daichi could not think of.

“Boss, look.” As they reached the corridor, the man first looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. He returned to Daichi with his brows knotted, “Nana-chan had just sleep a while ago, but--”

Daichi raised his brows.

“When we came, we saw a man wearing suit came out of his room. And, and… And we came in, Nana-chan was severely bleeding. Like, the front part of his gown was totally red. We called the nurse and the doctor and they treated Nana-chan.”

Daichi’s eyes widened. He stood frozen in his place.

“The flower vase was on the floor against the wall but the shards were everywhere, like someone threw them.”

Something dropped in his stomach. He bit his lips and cursed under his breath. How could it happen only right when he’s not around? How could he not think of it-- how could he missed the fact that whoever wanted to kill Chihiro was still running free out there? It must be the reason why Chihiro kept on asking where he’s going. Because now, anytime Chihiro’s left alone could also be the time he’s killed.

But no, the most important thing is that how could he went and find Chihiro at the exact timing? Had they been spied?

“Fuck.” Daichi rustled his hair in frustration. He was about to rush past the man to return to the room, but the man caught him by his arms.

“Boss, boss, wait.” The man said. A nurse went pass them, throwing a nervous but curious glance at the two huge man talking, “Nana-chan actually asked us to not tell you, but we’re scared that if you don’t know, it may happen again.”

“I see.” Daichi nodded. He gave the man a thin smile before pushing the man’s grip away from his hand. He bowed and said, “thank you.”

Chihiro woke up to the pitter-patter of the rain and a soft clink next to his bed. He grunted and rubbed his eyes, and saw Daichi sitting next to him, quietly peeling some apples. He closed his eyes and sighed. Truly, he thought, there's no other sight (and sound) as calming as this one. After what happened a few hours ago, seeing Daichi sitting next to him felt like an instant sense of safety.

"Oh you're awake." Daichi put down the knife and the apple he was peeling, then cleaned his hand. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"Yeah." Chihiro murmured, placing his hand over his wound, "the painkiller is in the drawer."

Daichi pulled the drawer open and took out a pack of tablet. He gave one to Chihiro, then went to fetch a glass of water. When he saw him having not even the least energy to properly sit upright, he placed his hand around his shoulder to prop him up. 

"My head hurts." Chihiro complained. He leaned to the man's shoulder and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Probably because you lost some blood again." 

Chihiro glanced to the man next to him, then casted his gaze away. "So you knew."

"Yeah." Daichi helped him lying down again, "the nurses updated me."

_ Pause. _

“What happened to the flower vase?”

“It dropped.”

“On its own?”

Chihiro stayed quiet. He refused to look at Daichi in the eyes. He was about to avoid the question altogether by lying back down, but Daichi’s hand was pressing on the bed right behind him. 

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

Chihiro nodded.

Daichi sighed and let go. As Chihiro lied down--his back facing the dark-haired man--he pulled the blanket and made sure the pink-haired man was well covered and warm.

“Just, stay there,” Chihiro said suddenly, still refusing to look at the man sitting next to him.

“‘Kay.”

Chihiro closed his eyes. The sudden loss of blood earlier had zapped all his energy away. He felt rather guilty for keeping Daichi in the dark, too. At this point he really should have told him of anything that has been happening, for both of them. For his safety, and for Daichi’s, too. Who knows after two failed attempt to kill him, they would turn to Daichi instead? Who knows. 

He felt something warm and dry touching him. Daichi was stroking him on the cheek, brushing and fixing his hair. Funny for him to do that without being asked to. Maybe Daichi does actually know that he likes getting touched whenever he's sad or anxious. His fingers felt so rough and dry against him. Ah, right, the air here is pretty dry to begin with. If they were at home, he’d have turned the air humidifier on. 

Another bouquet was delivered to the room. This time it was carnation. a bunch of pink carnation wrapped in light yellow crepe paper and white ribbon. The sender was the same person—Sasaki Kojiro.

"You want to throw this away, right?"

"Yes." The answer came quick. Chihiro didn't even bother to turn to look at the bouquet or the card. Daichi was the one reading it. The message was more or less similar to the previous message.

_ I am looking forward to your return _ . It said.

But return to where? It would be less creepy if the sender was his client, and by 'return' they meant returning to the studio to work, yet, Chihiro's strong aversion suggested that it wasn't really the case here.

Daichi again kept the card for himself. He unwrapped the flowers and threw them all away, giving only some to a passing nurse. She looked happy receiving them. He returned to Chihiro finally trying to eat the apples he peeled for them. 

Daichi asked if he wanted dinner, but Chihiro said he didn't really feel like eating. A few slices of apple would do for now, he reassured. 

The man slept sitting down next to the bed again—this time wrapped in a blanket lent to him by the hospital. Chihiro had insisted for it after he refused to leave the bedside to sleep on the sofa. He kept on waking up every two hours or so, though. Every time he found himself woken up, he'd check if there's anything out of the ordinary, and if there's nothing, he'd simply watch Chihiro sleeping until he fell asleep again. 

The next morning, the same group of men came knocking again. They still donned the similar shiny leather jacket, leather boots and pompadour, but each one of them now sported bright pink headband with 'mama cat protection squad' written across. It seemed like it was hand-written too. 

"We will not let anyone harm our bar's beloved nana-chan!" They proclaimed upon entering the room. 

Chihiro blinked and stared at them, so did Daichi. The men sounded like an impending mess, and it wouldn't be long until they're chased out of the hospital for disturbing other patients, even though Chihiro was transferred to his own room upon Daichi's request.

"What—"

"In the light of yesterday's incident, we have organized ourselves to guard the door to this room to make sure nobody will bring harm to our bar's mama cat!"

"I… I see…"

"So, Boss," the nearest man patted Daichi on the shoulder and smiled. "You may stop worrying and rest. We will make sure our Nana-chan is free from any danger."

"Mama cat? Is that me?" Chihiro asked back, curious. 

"Of course it is!"

"I… am a man though?"

"And why can't a man be a mama?"

"I don't have a womb?"

"Nonsense! A womb is not the only thing that decides whether or not someone is a mama!"

"Ah… alright…?" Chihiro chuckled awkwardly. Nevertheless, he smiled at the resolution and the strange, warmth tough kindness the boys displayed. True that he sometimes listened to their stories and gave them advice when they were drinking in Daichi's bar. They were close, but he just didn't expect them to go this far just for him.

"I certainly am not fathering any of your children, then." 

"Daichi! Not you too!"

A tired yet soft chuckle escaped the rather cold, rigid man. He thought the idea was stupid, but knowing people like these men helping with watching over the door did give him assurance. 

Daichi fell asleep on the sofa shortly after lunch. Chihiro asked everyone to be quiet and let the man rest, for the anxiousness and the lack of proper sleep must have started taking a toll to his body.

**Author's Note:**

> I love them so much, I can write an entire essay about sexuality, love, and childhood trauma just based on these two characters. That's how good they are.


End file.
